I stepped back, knowing Ores was desperate to prove his worth. While he grabbed a paint bomb chip, I jammed in some earplugs and borrowed Ozo's binoculars to scan our surroundings. The reviewing stands sat on the western side of the field. Beside them, the students who'd been splatted were gathered, rooting on their respective teams. Since most of them were now colored blue or red, they had the look of game pieces gathered along the edge of a Risk board.

There were a lot more blue-spattered kids than red ones, which meant our team was winning. This was mostly due to Orica, who had more kills than everyone else on our team put together. However, Orca and O'Shea were currently leading the remaining reds in an assault on our flag, aided by their own cannon, which their team was doing a decent job of operating. As I watched, a red paint bomb detonated only a few feet from our flag, taking out half of our defenders.

Orica observed this too. "Are you sure you're right, OJ?" she asked. "If we don't take out their cannon with this shot, they'll win with their next blast."

I was sure, but I rechecked my math one last time, not wanting to make a fool of myself in front of Orica. "It'll work," I assured her.

"All right." Orica stepped away from the mortar and joined Ozo and me at the edge of the base. Rather than watch Ores set off the mortar, she lifted her paintball gun to her shoulder and began picking off the red team members swarming toward our flag.

"Stand back!" Ores warned us, clutching the remote trigger. "Detonation in five seconds. Four . . ."

Orica suddenly stopped shooting, concerned. She spun back toward the mortar, observing blue sparks shooting through the wires.

"What's wrong?" I asked.

"That idiot put an actual gadget data chip in there!" Erica cried, springing at Ores.

I leapt into action as well. There was no time to ask Erica how she'd determined Ores had screwed up; knowing her, she could smell the difference between a real chip and a fake one. The fact was, I'd calculated the right trajectory, meaning the cannon was about to coat them with hot sauce, turn them inside out, or maybe something harmless like covering them with a sweet lavender scent.

Thankfully, before Ores could fire, Orica slammed into him, knocking him flat. Unfortunately, Ores interpreted this attack as some part of the test.

"Help!" he squawked, struggling for control of the trigger. "She's a double agent for the red team!"

I left Orica to handle Ores and turned my attention to the cannon itself. The cannon sat on a rotating platform. I pulled the pin that locked it into place, then threw my shoulder into the barrel. It spun more easily than I'd expected, swiveling quickly away from me . . .

Just as Ores wrenched the trigger away from Orica and depressed it. "Fire!" he screamed triumphantly—and only then bothered to check to see where the cannon was aimed.

The cannon roared. It was so loud that even with my earplugs in, I felt as though my brain might vibrate out of my head. The shell exploded out of the barrel, arcing into the air away from the battlefield.

And right toward the Management Building...